


home for christmas

by honeycombkiss



Series: waited just to love you [6]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Characters (15/16 years old), Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Eddie Kaspbrak can be both soft and chaotic let him live, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, Post-IT (2017), Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier is Whipped, Richie Tozier is a Good Boyfriend, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Teenage Losers Club (IT), although nobody moves away or forgets, rated M for trashmouth and what richie calls christmas blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21941803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycombkiss/pseuds/honeycombkiss
Summary: Richie's Christmas list is quite simple--street fighter (yes, like the entire game), a hot tub, a skateboard, crazy socks, snow, and for Eddie to be home for the holidays. Somehow, he's not sure any of those are a possibility.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: waited just to love you [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515326
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	home for christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in their Sophomore Year of High School, which means that it is Christmas of 1991. The Losers are all around 15 and 16 years old.
> 
> Big thanks and holiday cheer goes to @lordasriell on tumblr for allowing me to expand on her lovely headcanons for this story. Her original post read: things richie tozier wants for christmas  
> • 1. street fighter. (yes, like the entire game i mean c'mon i could put it in the basement dad its not a big deal.)  
> • 2. snow. (his friends are always very good at snowball fights and mikeys said hes never had a proper snowball fight and bills always won the ones in the past but maybe team trashmouth is in for a win this year. (and eddie always gets really red faced and feral with pent up energy richies never liked him more than when hes forgotten what hypothermia and frostbite is and hes just pelting snow at their friends with the loudest laugh richie has ever heard from him))
> 
> So, To Nat, I hope you enjoy the snowball fight scene, and I hope I gave Mike what he deserved!
> 
> I am forever grateful for my wonderful fiancé who helped me write Richie’s letter to Eddie. I was stumped, but she is the Richie to my Eddie.
> 
> Also to my sister @softstenbrough on tumblr for a couple of great headcanons too.

_“Have a holly jolly, Christmas_ ,” Richie sang along to his radio as quietly as he could manage. Moonlight streamed through his window, lighting his bedroom along with his bedside table lamp. Nearly every channel on the radio was playing some version of a Christmas carol, leaving Richie to settle for a more upbeat song that wasn’t about some religions coveted baby. Which wasn’t something he would be saying around his parents, despite the fact that he was currently writing a list meant for them.

Richie wasn’t sure if he was too old to be making a Christmas list; but besides causing some sort of havoc, there really wasn’t much else to be doing. He couldn’t sleep—which wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. His hyperactive mind wouldn’t slow down long enough to let him fall asleep.

And so, three forty-five in the morning found Richie with his pillows propped up behind him and a little notebook in his lap. Scrawled across the top of the page, read ‘ _things Richie Tozier wants for christmas’_. It was followed by a bullet list of just two things. He’d erased several other things along the way, such as _trip to Hawaii_ and _indoor movie theater room_. He was still considering _hot tub._

He ran through his favorite activities again, wondering how they could be advanced. Arcade games—already covered since he was asking for street fighter. His friends—that’s why the hot tub would be great. Being a badass—maybe he could add a skateboard to the list.

He chewed on his bottom lip, noticing how dry they were. Maybe he should put chapstick on his list—certainly Eddie would agree—but he was sure he’d lose the thing within the day.

Whatever he ended up writing, his parents would probably ignore anyway. But Richie had decided it was better to send his wishes out into the universe anyway.

He had a perfect vision of what the following month would hold. Maybe it would snow, and the Losers could have a snowball fight. Or maybe they’d have a movie night at Bill’s. It was always possible that Ben would bake something delicious. And certainly, Richie would have to go Christmas shopping for Eddie. It was their first Christmas as a couple. Just last year Richie had dreamed of what it would be like to spoil Eddie. This had to include a sleepover with Christmas blowjobs and maybe a cheesy Christmas movie if Eddie really wanted to watch one. Maybe they’d drink hot chocolate, too. There were so many possibilities, so many plans to be made in such a little amount of time.

It felt like a big fantasy, but maybe it was all possible.

Later that morning, Richie awoke suddenly to the sound of his father already rising for the morning, feet shuffling against the floor outside Richie’s bedroom. It would be the perfect time to bring up the Christmas list, Richie knew, as his father wasn’t frustrated by the day yet. Richie threw back his blankets and raced down the stairs with his list in hand.

Down the stairs—wouldn’t it be fun to ride down them on his theoretical new skateboard—around the corner, and finally into the kitchen, Richie skidded to a halt. He winced when his hip bashed into the doorway.

“Whoa, good morning, Rich,” Wentworth Tozier smiled from his place in the kitchen.

Richie slinked farther into the room, slipping against the tile floor in his socks. Just like an ice-skating rink, much safer than the frozen over pond that Bill badly wanted everyone to skate and die across. He could put on a better ice-skating show right in the comfort of his home.

“What’re you doing up at this hour on a Saturday?” Wentworth asked, pulling Richie from his thoughts.

“I could ask you the same question,” Richie said, reaching his arms above his head and pushing himself into a spin. He wobbled slightly, though managed to keep on his feet.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Went offered easily. “You either?”

“Nope,” Richie agreed, pushing himself into another spin.

Wentworth prepared his breakfast while Richie fumbled around the kitchen in search of where he’d left his box of cereal.

He finally located it in the cupboard with his cereal bowls, pouring himself a bowl full of Lucky Charms. After pouring in the milk, Richie joined his father at the kitchen bar, shoving his Christmas list towards him.

“What’s this?”

“Read ‘em and weep,” Richie said in his best ‘ _I just won poker’_ Voice.

Went raised his eyebrows, though his gaze did flitter down, eyes darting down the page.

“None of these items are actually things we can gift you, son,” Went critiqued over breakfast. He had a sad looking bowl of oatmeal in front of him, while Richie sat beside him quickly eating his own bowl of Lucky Charms.

“Yeah-huh,” Richie managed around a bite of cereal. “A skateboard!”

“I don’t want you to die, son.” Wentworth’s voice was serious, but Richie couldn’t help his laugh.

“Dad!”

“Richie, you can be a bit klutzy at times.”

“Promise me you’ll think about, doll,” Richie spoke in his southern belle voice while batting his eyelashes.

Wentworth laughed.

“Also, street fighter!” Richie said. “You can buy me that!”

“You can’t be serious,” Went replied. “Do you mean the entire game of street fighter? From the arcade?”

“Yes, like the entire game. I mean, c’mon, I could put in my bedroom, Dad! It’s not a big deal!”

“Hm,” is all Went said back, before, “And a hot tub? Richie, seriously?”

“Yeah, it could go right on the back patio!” Richie explained. “Listen, I could use it and so could you and Mags. So really it’d be a perfect gift for the whole family!”

“Whoa, you’ve got a whole sales pitch and everything,” Went raised his eyebrows at Richie, who just offered his best, winning smile.

“And snow? How do you expect your mother and I to gift you snow for Christmas?”

Richie just shrugged. “You guys could make it happen, I bet.”

“The only practical thing on here is a pack of crazy socks.” Went gave Richie a look.

“Yeah! Like, really fucking-”

“Language.”

“crazy socks, like weird patterns and shapes and shit, y’know?”

“Sure,” Went nodded.

Went regarded the list for a moment longer, before turning it around. “I’ll have to discuss it with your mother, Rich.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie shrugged.

X

The weeks leading up to Christmas were somewhat of a blur. After the fact, Richie remembered them in snippets, as if each moment stood out amongst the rest of the normalcy. There was a checklist in his mind, and each day got him closer and closer to the perfect Christmas he was envisioning.

The next item on the list: Christmas shopping. This task would require help and the hallways of Derry High were as good as any place to proposition a friend.

“Ben Handsome! What’re you up to this fine evening?” Richie asked, slinging an arm over Ben’s shoulders. He didn’t try to shake him off, instead just rolled his eyes and smiled.

“I’ve got to go Christmas shopping-”

“How’d you know I was going to ask you?!” Richie scrunched up his face, eyebrows raising.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Ben said, calmly. “I’m going with my mom. She says she doesn’t know what to get me if I don’t show her.”

“Make her a damn list!” Richie said in exasperation. “I need you.”

“I’m sorry, Rich,” and for his part, he did look sympathetic. “I can tomorrow.”

Richie sighed. Sure, tomorrow wouldn’t make too much of a difference, but he’d had his heart set on that evening. He’d even got Went and Maggie to agree upon loaning him a bit of money. And Eddie was busy studying with Beverly that evening, so it just felt right all around.

“No can do, Benny-boo,” Richie sighed, dramatically throwing his head back. He turned to Bill, who was just beside them. Bill stood tall on his tiptoes; eyes squinted as he scanned the halls. Richie had put him on lookout duty, entrusted with the task of finding Eddie before he found them. “Bill!”

Bill turned, eyebrows raising. “Nuh-now you-you need me?” He teased. “I’m suh-second ch-ch-choice?”

“Big Bill! Don’t get it twisted!” Richie pulled away from Ben, throwing his arms up in the air as encroached on Bill’s personal space. He wrapped an arm around Bill’s shoulders, pulling him close. Bill raised his eyebrows, but he came easily. “Sure, you’re not as romantic as Big Ben-” Richie spoke again, pausing when Ben cut him off.

“Nobody is,” Ben said, though he tried to hide it in a cough. Richie broke into laughter.

“Ben gets off a good one!” Richie leaned away from Bill to pat Ben on the back. Ben smiled.

“And Bill,” Richie continued speaking to Ben, as if Bill weren’t right there. “Is not very romantic, but he’ll do.”

Bill made a shocked face, though he did laugh. “Als-s-so, Ed-d-die alert.”

Richie perked up. He looked towards where Bill’s gaze was directed. He didn’t have to rise to his own tiptoes, as he already stood much taller than most of the student body. Eddie, however, was much smaller and Richie honestly wasn’t sure how Bill had managed to spot him.

Suddenly, though, Eddie appeared through the crowd of Derry High Students. He had a little scowl on his face, eyebrows drawn together. His large backpack sat atop his shoulders, hair flopping against his forehead, lips in a pout. Richie really, really wanted to kiss him. He bit his lip instead. And cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eddie Spaghetti!”

“I’m right here, dickhead!” Eddie yelled back. Richie watched as Eddie’s shoulders sagged. “What’s up?”

“The sky,” Richie deadpanned, earning him an eye roll.

“Ruh-richie and I are going-”

“What about that new history assignment?” Ben cut Bill off quickly, just as Richie’s eyes widened.

Eddie looked between them. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I’m not sure I want to.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Spaghetti Man,” Richie smiled over at Eddie. Eddie smiled back, a sweet little upturn of his lips.

Bill shot Richie an apologetic look, his lips in a little, thin pout. Richie made a series of faces, each expressing the development of his forgiveness of Bill: there was disgust, then reluctance, and then his love for Bill won in the end. Bill looked confused, and Richie had to remind himself that Bill wasn’t great at reading nonverbal cues.

“Has anyone seen Beverly?” Eddie asked, looking around. “We’re going to walk back to her aunts together.”

As if they could somehow spot her, Richie, Ben and Bill all looked around them. Richie laughed at the looks of concentration that settled across the group.

“She’s allusive,” Richie said, just as Beverly finally broke through the crowd.

“Looking for me?” Her voice spoke up, and Richie watched as Ben and Eddie spun around to face her.

“Yeah,” Eddie started. “We should get going so I can be home before dinner. That way my mother won’t have a heart attack or call the police or some other dumb fucking shit,”

“Sure thing, Eds,” Beverly smiled, before waving to the others as she and Eddie disappeared. Richie wanted to kiss his boyfriend goodbye, though he knew that would be suicide. Instead, he turned to Bill.

“Ready, Big Bill?”

Together, Richie and Bill rode their bikes from Derry High towards the downtown streets of Derry. Richie sort of wished they’d begged Maggie and Went to drive them over to the big mall in Portland. There would surely be more options there. This would have to do, though, as Richie was eager to get a gift.

The stress of the situation settled in suddenly. Richie still wasn’t quite sure what to get his loveable, little boyfriend. Small shops whipped by, and Richie had no idea which to pull into. What could Richie give Eddie that meant anything? But was also inconspicuous enough to be hidden in plan sight within the organized, cleanliness that was his bedroom.

Voicing his worries aloud felt a bit too vulnerable, so instead he made obnoxious noises until Bill asked him to _fucking quit it_.

“This gift has to be perfect, Bill,” Richie lamented, acting as if he was randomly changing the subject to something different. “Like, absolutely, positively perfect.”

“D-do you huh-have any id-deas?”

“This is why I wanted Ben.” Richie huffed. “Bill, I need you to come up with some ideas.”

“Uh-I’ve nuh-never had a b-b-boyfriend!” Bill looked at him incredulously.

“It’s Eddie!”

“So?” Bill scrunched his nose. “Y-you known him b-best.”

“So,” Richie elongated the vowel, thoughts whirling through his head faster than he could keep up. “you’re actually the smartest like ever, Billiam!” Richie shrilled in his Valley Girl Voice. “You Losers wouldn’t have any better ideas than me.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “Suh-see?”

X

It was later that week, the Losers sitting around their usual lunch table, when Eddie broke the news that would ruin Richie’s entire Christmas.

“You can’t be like, actually serious,” Richie’s Valley Girl voice came out, as he tried to mask the actual weight of what was happening.

“Didn’t you just see your aunts for Thanksgiving?” Ben asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Richie nodded at Ben, as he agreed.

“Yeah, but apparently that’s not enough torture for the year!” Eddie whined. “Something about Great Aunt June won’t be here for much longer.”

“Oh no, one less horrible bitchy asshole in the world,” Richie grumbled, still feeling horrible.

Eddie gave him a look, though there was a smile to it, a look of agreement.

Richie didn’t know what else to say, though, because he’d already concocted so many plans. They were going to drink hot chocolate and cuddle in his bed and go to the arcade and maybe even go see a movie. Maybe they’d even get the things on Richie’s Christmas list, and they could skinny dip in the hot tub. Or have a Losers party in it, at least, followed by a snowball fight.

It didn’t seem fair, Richie thought. That Eddie would have to spend the holiday with people who didn’t truly love him. He’d have to somehow get through what should be the happiest and most magical time of year surrounded by hatred and contempt. Shouldn’t Eddie get a say about who he spent his time with?

“I’m suh-sorry, Eddie,” Bill said sympathetically.

“I’d say you could stay with me, but we all know that’s about as possible as Richie getting his hot tub,” Beverly said, a teasing tone to her voice.

“Ah, yuh underestimate me powers, Miss Scawlett,” Richie joked, hoping to distract himself and everyone else from the pit of sadness that was growing in his stomach.

Eddie had come back from Thanksgiving in the saddest spirits. Richie hated seeing his boyfriend that unhappy and stressed. He couldn’t face it again.

“I hope it snows this year,” Mike’s voice cut through Richie’s inner monologue. He glanced up, watching the Losers interact with one another. Only Eddie’s gaze was still fixed on him, a look of guilt and anguish apparent on his features.

( _Eddie shouldn’t have to go if he doesn’t want to_ , Richie thought. _He should stay with my family_.)

“That’d be nice,” Ben agreed.

“I’ve never had a really good snowball fight.” Mike admitted.

“What?!” Richie screeched obnoxiously, earning him glares from Eddie, Stan and Ben, though Beverly just talked over him,

“What about last year?”

“That wasn’t snowball snow,” Mike shrugged. “It was too mushy.”

“Tr-true,” Bill agreed. “It d-d-didn’t p-pack well.”

“I want to have a big snowball fight, with teams and shit,” Mike explained. “And snow forts, maybe.”

“Fuck,” Richie nodded. “I put snow on my list, too, Mike, maybe Santa Claus will come through.”

“You’ve been too naughty this year,” Stan said, failing to notice the implications of his sentence before the words tumbled out. His eyes widened, and he clamped a hand over his mouth. A sly smile crept up Richie’s face.

“Oh Daddy,” Richie purred quietly.

“Please don’t finish that,” Eddie cut in, cheeks a rosy red suddenly. “I’m begging you, Richie. And you,” Eddie turned to Stan. “Don’t-”

But Stan cut him off, “Believe me, Eddie, I don’t want to hear him finish either.”

“Hey!” Richie squawked, earning him a laugh from Beverly and a snicker from Bill.

“What a sh-show,” Bill teased.

When the bell rang, ending lunch period, Richie and Eddie were slow to leave. They lingered by their table, Richie’s mind full of things he wanted to say, while his mouth only formed shitty, half-thought out jokes.

“I’m just as pissed as you are,” Eddie assured him with a grumble. “I fucking hate my aunts. They’re actually the worst people ever, Rich.”

“I had so many plans!” Richie whined, pulling at his hair. “Like Christmas movies, and snowball fights, and Christmas blowjobs!”

“What’s a Christmas blowjob?” Eddie asked, furrowing his eyebrows. He looked adorable. Richie couldn’t resist himself, reaching up to pinch at Eddie’s cheek. Eddie tried to push him off, but his huge smile gave him away.

“It’s just like a normal blowjob, but it’s done at Christmastime.” Richie shrugged.

“I want that, too,” Eddie smiled sadly. “But I really don’t have a choice.”

And he was right. What was he supposed to do? Tell Mrs. K that he would be spending the holidays with his secret lover. Not likely.

X

(That evening, after washing the dishes meticulously and then drying them as quickly as possible, Richie jotted one more thing down on his Christmas list that now hung from a magnet on the refrigerator. Although Richie had only written down five things, Maggie and Went had made several cryptic and mysterious notes.

(Like _sale on Tuesday_ and _remember to write that check, Went_ and a confusing _absolutely not_ that had been crossed out.)

None of that mattered anymore, Richie thought to himself. Without Eddie in town for Christmas, Richie kind of wanted the whole holiday cancelled.

So, in his messiest scrawl, Richie added a number six, followed by an _E_ encased in a heart followed by a little doodled house.

Richie wanted Eddie home for Christmas.)

X

When Richie came stumbling through the Uris’ front door, held open wide by a kind and smiling Mrs. Uris, the smell of jelly and latke’s frying in oil was instantly alluring.

“Happy Hanukkah, Mrs. Uris,” Richie smiled brightly, ducking under the threshold and allowing the door to swing shut behind him. “Thanks for having me over.”

Mrs. Uris smiled brightly, her eyes twinkling the same shade as Stan’s. “It’s always a pleasure, Richard.”

Mr. and Mrs. Uris were old and stuffy and traditional. Or at least, that’s the way Richie understood them. But they had always invited the Losers to Hanukkah, and Richie had come every year for as long as he could remember. Eddie had never been allowed to celebrate another religion and Bill had usually been stuck with babysitting duty. Now, though, so much had changed since their childhood. But this was one tradition that hadn’t. And although there were new Losers to invite and circumstances had changed for others, Richie was usually the only one to come and celebrate.

“It wouldn’t be December without your world-famous strawberry donuts, Mrs. Uris.” Richie told her truthfully, fingers fumbling with the mood rings Eddie had given him. He couldn’t help but glance around her, hoping to see Stan.

Mrs. Uris chuckled lightly, pushing her spectacles up her nose. Her graying hair was tied tight in a bun at the base of her neck, not a hair out of place; nothing like his own mother. “Stanley should be down in just a moment.” Mrs. Uris told him, before gesturing towards the coat closet just inside the front door of their home.

“You can place your coat and shoes here, Richard.” Richie fumbled out of his coat and toed off his chucks. He could almost see Mrs. Uris wince when he accidently dropped his coat onto the hardwood floor of their entryway.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled under his breath, grasping for the closet doorknob and wrenching it open with a squeak. He didn’t dare look up at Mrs. Uris, instead busying himself by putting his things away as nicely as he could manage.

“Richie!” Stan’s voice came from the staircase just to Richie’s right, and he spun around to see Stan smiling over at him. Stan looked like he’d just arrived home from a business meeting; dressed in khaki pants, a blue plaid button down with a matching navy sweater buttoned across his chest. He was smiling though, none of his usual anxiety evident in his gaze.

“Stan the Man!” Richie exclaimed. “Ready to get cookin’?!”

Stan nodded, stepping down the remaining stairs. The pair followed Mrs. Uris down the hallway and into the kitchen, where she’d already set up stations for the latkes and jelly-filled donuts that Richie loved so much.

“Now, boys, I have a couple of tasks to complete around the house before I must serve supper. I presume you will be alright in here alone?”

“Yes, mother,” Stan nodded his head, elbowing Richie to do the same.

“Of course, Mrs. Uris, you don’t have to worry about us.”

She smiled wryly, though she did turn and walk away. The pair are left alone to roll out the dough for the donuts. Stan made Richie wash his hands four times before he deemed him cleanly enough to help with this task.

It was a methodic responsibility, using rolling pins and flour-coated hands to roll out strips of dough. But it was familiar, and Richie didn’t have to think much to complete the task. Richie eyed the Pyrex bowls full of jelly that sat in front of them on the counter. They’d have to fill the dough later, but for now it was about creating something to fry.

“It’s so sticky, feels like I’m rolling my cum-”

“Richie, for fucks sake, please don’t be so disgusting!” Stan cut him off.

“Oh Stanliam, you know you love my sticky, gooey-”

“Fuck off, Richie!”

“Yeah, yeah, you hate my jokes,”

“No, I hate your trashmouth.” Stan corrected.

Richie reached a finger forward, scooping some of the jelly into his mouth. Stan looked appalled, too stunned to say anything. He blinked several times before he stumbled out a disgusted,

“I can’t look at you for at least thirty seconds,” Stan said, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath and turning away from Richie. He nearly poked his nose up in disgust. He looked very serious, so Richie counted to thirty in his head. He wasn’t sure if this was a time to add a word such as _thousand_ or _watermelon_ in between words to get to an official thirty seconds. He decided against it, though.

He reached thirty quickly, alerting Stan, “It’s been thirty seconds.”

Stan groaned. “Oh I hoped you’d forget since you have the attention span of a turnip.”

Richie just grinned, scooping up another finger-full of jelly.

“Mm,” Richie moaned as obscenely as he could manage. “Strawberry.”

“ _Sufganiyot_ ,” Stan corrected, though even Richie could tell that his pronunciation was shit. “Or yes, strawberry, in English.”

“Imma stick to Strawberry,” Richie used his thick New Yorker accent, following Stan’s lead with the dough rolling.

As night began to fall around Derry, the sunset’s rays streamed through the large sliding-glass patio doors, the group gathered together to light the Menorah. Richie remembered from years past, that the shammash would be used to light yet another candle on what would become a nearly fully lit menorah. Mrs. Uris lifted the shammash from its center piece place, while Mr. Uris cupped his own hand around hers. Richie watched in fascination as Mr. Uris proudly recited the prayer, lighting each candle.

Although Richie didn’t understand a word that was said, he stood politely. Stan had a very serious look on his face that Richie tried to mimic.

The pair of friends were soon dismissed for the night. Richie eagerly followed Stan up the Uris’ narrow staircase and into his impeccably clean bedroom.

Squished together in Stan’s bed, they read comics and fell asleep side by side, the newest issue of Iron Man falling between them.

X

(The day Eddie left, Richie met up with Bill and Stan and together they biked up to the Hanlon farm. Bill said it would be a good idea, to forget about Eddie’s absence.

Richie really tried his best to not whine about Eddie the entire time.

Though he pretty epically failed.)

X

Mike’s large bedroom was heated by an old, noisy radiator. Richie had burned his hand on it enough times to know that it was a good idea to avoid it at all costs. Sitting close to it, though, was a warm and cozy place.

That afternoon, Richie had built up a thrown right beside the radiator, so that it’s heat would warm him first. Pillows and blankets supported his back and bottom, his legs crossed underneath Mike’s large duvet he’d dragged from his bed.

“Cozy?” Mike asked, a funny smirk on his face.

“It’s okay,” Richie shrugged, words spilling out of his mouth, “but it’d be better with Eds.”

“You fucking sap,” Stan rolled his eyes, though there was fondness leaking off of him.

“But he’s not here,” Richie ignored Stan. “Instead, the shattered pieces of my heart remain.”

“Is that a p-p-poetry?” Bill asked, at the same time Stan said,

“You’re so fucking dramatic,”

“I am not!” Richie groaned. “It’s our first Christmas as a couple and he’s _gone_! I had so many things planned, Stanley!”

“He’s not gone; he’s with his family,” Stan corrected.

“Hardly! His stupid mom is the fucking worst, Stan, you know that! And his aunts aren’t any better. And he’s got nobody his age, just him and a bunch of old racist, homophobic assholes!” Richie clenched his fists. “You were right, I shouldn’t think about it. I’m just upset now.”

“I tried to tell you,” Stan tsked.

“He’s already whined about this today?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, the wh-whole r-ruh-ride oh-ov-ver.” Bill said, shaking his head fondly.

“It’s getting old.” Stan added.

“I don’t know,” Mike shrugged. “It’s kind of cute. And I miss Eddie, too,”

“See! Somebody gets it!” Richie yelled from his blanket throne. “Somebody turn on a good fucking song, though, before I throw Mike’s radio out the window.”

“Brat,” Stan grumbled, while Mike fiddled with the radio.

X

(Several days after Eddie left, the Losers met up at the little pond at the edge of Derry city limits. Bill insisted they could skate on it in their sneakers, that it was somehow thick enough and sturdy enough to hold their combined weight.

Richie really tried his best to not whine about Eddie the entire time.

Though he pretty epically failed.)

X

“This is a bad fucking idea,” Stan said, looking leery from the side of the pond. The dormant grass was frost covered and lined the edge of the frozen pond. Ben was sitting on it, unafraid to get his pants muddy and cold. Mike was crouched down at the edge, pressing his hand against the ice.

“You’re not going to be able to tell how sturdy it is, are you?” Beverly asked Mike, who was now pushing harder.

“No,” Ben spoke up. “You’d have to use a measuring tape to test its thickness.”

“Did anybody bring a measuring tape?” Beverly asked the group at large.

“If anyb-body wuh-would, it’d b-be you, B-bev,” Bill shrugged. “How th-thick does it n-need to b-be, B-b-ben?”

“At least four inches.”

“It luh-looks at l-least that th-th-thick.”

Richie was ready to believe Bill, and he could tell others were, too, before Stan spoke up.

“You can’t tell just by looking!” Stan said, arms crossed tightly against his chest.

“Just whip your dick out, Stan, we can use it to measure.” Richie joked. Stan glared at Richie.

“Shut up, Trashmouth.” Stan muttered past gritted teeth.

“Come on,” Beverly stepped out onto the ice, and the group collectively held their breaths. “Don’t be a pussy.”

Bill didn’t need further prompting, easily stepping onto the ice-covered pond. Richie looked around at the other three still staring skeptically at the pond—as if it would open up and envelope Bill and Bev at any moment—before swinging his arms back and forth and jumping fiercely onto the pond.

“Richie!” Mike shouted, while Ben gasped and Stan yelled,

“You’re a fucking moron!”

The ice, however, held his weight just fine. Surprisingly, it didn’t crack or shatter as he jumped again in place. It was slippery, though, so he nearly fell flat on his ass, just barely able to keep himself up. He had to stick is arms out to try and keep his balance, as he shuffled across the ice.

“Huh-having f-fun?” Bill asked as he slid past in his beat-up sneakers.

Richie’s heart was kind of full, and the sound of the other Losers joining them on the ice was nice, but.

“I miss Eddie,” Richie whined, though he did pick up his speed so as to keep up with Bill. “Race me?”

“Yuh-y-you’re on!”

X

Several days after Eddie left, Richie sat down at his desk and penned him a letter. Written in the center of an envelope read _Eddie Spaghetti Kaspbrak_ with his aunt’s address underneath. And the letter within Richie had written while listening to one of his mixtapes inspired by Eddie.

He didn’t write many letters—he couldn’t actually remember the last time he had written a letter that his parents weren’t making him write for his grandma. The words felt choppy, but he had a lot to say. He focused on the happy little face he knew Eddie would make when he opened the envelope; Eddie’s tiny nose and adorable smile his guiding light on many missions, this one included.

The final step was rewriting the letter so that it was in their secret code. Way back in fifth grade they’d invented their own written language. Even now, years later, it came in handy quite often. He didn’t want Mrs. K’s grubby little hands and eyes scouring the words that were meant for Eddie alone.

Later, pleased with his work—and positive of the translation (he’d checked three times!)—he folded the letter and placed it in the envelope. Licking the sticky back tab of the envelope, he envisioned Eddie’s lips and sealed it shut.

‘ _Dear Santa Baby,_

_EDS! My boyfriend! My Eddie Spaghetti! I wish you were here, and I know you wish you were here too so I’m going to try and not dwell on that stupid fucking fact. Instead, I’ll tell you that if you were here I’d either be kissing you or licking you. Like all over._

_I am very lonely without you. Although you’ve only been gone like a week, I know it’s only going to get worse. Whose window am I going to crawl through? Who is going to cuddle me when I can’t sleep?? Who’s going to remind you to breathe and that you don’t need that fucking inhaler?? Did you take your inhaler?? If you did, that’s okay, I’d probably need one to deal with your dumb as fuck aunts, too._

_I feel as if my husband has left for war. What will I tell the children? I can’t be a widow at 15, Eds, I’m too young._

_This week has been uneventful. I went to the arcade with Beverly. Me, Stan and Bill went to Mike’s. I even went and bugged Bev at work. She always acts put out, but we both know she doesn’t really mind. And you’ll never believe the bullshit we let Bill get us into. Two words: ice skating. But it’s not the same without you, Eds._

_I know this is so fucking dumb, but I’m not even excited for Christmas because all I want is your cute little ass under the tree. I’m such a sappy shit. But I love you. We waited so fucking long to be together and share all of our feelings and so I AM NOT STOPPING NOW._

_Fuck Eds, I miss climbing through your window. I mean I’ve always missed that when you were away to visit family but it used to be for a different Kaspbrak. I can see you rolling your eyes and telling me to shut the fuck up. But you always do this adorable half smile that always gives you away. I know you love me, Kaspbrak._

_I’ll see you soon. And then I’ll give you your Christmas present. Late. And a Christmas blowjob. Late. But it’s the thought that counts right? So just touch your pretty dick and pretend it’s me. I’ve already done the same._

_Love,_

_Your Devoted Boyfriend Richie’_

X

Richie wished he could’ve had each of the Losers at his home for Christmas. Maggie and Went had assured him that the more the merrier during the holiday season, but not everyone could slip away. Bill was stuck with his parents who loved to pretend they gave a shit about him for a day a year, showering him in gifts he hadn’t asked for. Mike’s aunts and uncles came into town, and it was sort of enough to pretend that his family wasn’t shattered a decade and a half ago. Ben’s aunt and cousin were visiting from New York, leaving him the only excited one.

Stan always spent Christmas with the Tozier’s. It wouldn’t be Christmas without him, Richie had long since decided. And Beverly’s aunt Catherine had a shift to work at the local gas station, leaving her alone. It only made sense to have her join the family as well.

Beverly was very polite to adults, it almost infuriated Richie. She was funny and sassy, not this delicate, gentle vision of Christmas cheer. “Thank you so much for inviting me to your Christmas dinner,” Beverly was saying, her cheeks rosy red from the cold winter wind. Maggie smiled largely, motioning for her to enter.

“Of course, dear,” Maggie ushered her inside, and gestured towards the kitchen where Stan and Richie already were.

“Bevvie!” Richie cheered for her, making grabby hands at her.

“Hey, Rich, Stan,” Beverly smiled, sitting on the stool beside Stan. “How was your Christmas?”

“Fine so far,” Stan smiled, shrugging. “It’s kind of a boring holiday.”

“Yeah, you’re so right,” Beverly nodded, pushing her red curls behind her ear.

“Especially when you get nothing on your list,” Richie added.

“Your list was fucking stupid,” Stan said, giving him a look. “A hot tub? Really?”

Beverly laughed. “I tried to tell him.”

“Hey, forgive me, I thought my parents loved me.” Richie gave a little pout, sticking out his bottom lip.

“You’re pathetic,” Beverly said, though she was laughing so it didn’t sting. “No Street Fighter either?”

“Well, actually they didn’t spring for the big arcade machine, fuckers,” Richie shrugged. “But apparently there’s a version for the SNES,” he slurred the letters together, “so we can have a tournament tonight if you losers are up for it.”

“It’s on,” Beverly agreed, a competitive energy taking over. Beverly was the only Loser who was even close to a real competition for Richie. It would make for an interesting game, as Richie hadn’t fully learned how to play on a different console.

Christmas dinner was happy. Richie, Stan and Beverly got to sit around the Tozier kitchen while Maggie and Went put together what they liked to call Christmas dinner buffet.

(Eddie would’ve loved it. He loved any opportunity to try a food he’d been told he was allergic to for most of his life.

Richie chose not to voice that out loud; knowing that everyone was sick of him bringing Eddie up.)

This year, Christmas dinner buffet consisted of frozen pizzas, frozen lasagna, pot stickers, fried rice and wings. Stan had also brought leftover latke’s, and Beverly’s aunt had sent her with a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies. And anyone who knew Bev’s aunt, knew her cookies were legendary.

Afterwards, though, came the real thrill. Stanley, Beverly and Richie set up for the night in the living room. It would be an all-night affair; video games and a slumber party. Richie had already brought his radio down and turned the station to something that wasn’t Christmas music.

“If we’re going to sleep here all night, we need to build like a fort or something,” Beverly said, looking around the room with her hands on her hips.

“Ah yes, Miss Scawlett,” Richie drawled in one of his favorite Voices. “And wut do yuh have in mind?”

“We need all of the blankets from your room, Rich,” Beverly instructed.

Richie nodded, turning away from the living room to ascend the staircase. He wanted to build a badass fort, but he also wanted to start playing street fighter. Both of these could be accomplished quickly, Richie thought, if they worked fast.

“Follow me!” He called over his shoulders, listening for the sounds of their footfalls. “Pip pip, ole chaps, we’ve got quite the task ahead of us.”

“That was better,” Beverly complimented his British Guy voice.

“Awh, cheers mate,”

Once inside his room, Richie stripped his bed quickly, throwing blankets onto a large pile on the floor.

“Ewe, we don’t want your used blankets,” Stan said from the doorway. Richie turned to toss a glare a him.

“You go grab ones from the hallway closet, then, Stanley,” Richie nodded towards the open doorway.

Stan put his hands on his hips, saying a very sassy, “What do you say?”

“Please, Daddy,” Richie mocked. Stan made throwing-up noises while Beverly just laughed.

“You kind of had that coming,” Beverly told Stan.

“Whatever,” was Stan’s reply, though it was distant as he’d left the room to retrieve the extra blankets.

“What else do we need?” Beverly asked.

“Well, we’ve already got every fucking blanket in the house, so I don’t really know.”

“Pillows?” Beverly suggested.

“There’s some on the couch downstairs,”

Wintertime found Richie’s bed full of blankets so as to cuddle up against the cold. Richie leaned down to grab at the large pile of blankets he’d created, gathering them into his grasp. He tried once, though his thin snowflake blanket slipped from his grasp. In an attempt to retrieve the fallen blanket, Richie bent down and dropped a large, fleece blanket along the way.

“Need some help?” Beverly laughed when it seemed evident that Richie couldn’t carry them all alone.

“Oh Lord, what a blessin’. Bless your heart, honey,” Richie drawled.

“Southern?” She bent down to collect the fallen blankets, holding them tightly against her chest.

“Ready, dahlin’?” Richie said instead of an answer.

“As I’ll ever be,” she agreed.

They began an awkward shuffle, as half of the blankets were in both of their grasps.

“Um, how do you suppose we get down the stairs?”

“Slowly,” Beverly said, taking the first one. “Just, like, don’t rush, Rich, please.”

“Yuh have me word, Miss Scawlett.” He could hear Beverly huff out a breathy laugh before she took another step.

The rest of the steps were a slow descend, Beverly telling him to slow down several more times.

“Took you Losers long enough,” Stan greeted them at the entrance of the living room. “I started the fort.” And he had, which was the hardest part in Richie’s opinion.

“Aren’t you the sweetest,” Richie cooed.

“Fuck off,” Stan grumbled, though he was smiling.

“Let’s drape these over here,” Beverly grabbed a thin blanket, pulling it towards the television set.

“We can tie it to this one,” Stan grabbed the edge of Beverly’s blanket, tying it to the roof of the fort.

“The softest ones are the base,” Richie said, laying them out on the floor. “Like walking on clouds.” He sighed happily.

“Nerd,” Beverly laughed, securing the last blanket to finish the roof.

Richie busied himself with turning the console on, and setting up the game.

“I call first round,” Beverly grabbed a controller, settling into her spot for the night. She’d changed into a pair of blue pajama bottoms and an oversized white t-shirt. Her cheeks were flushed pink, no doubt from the heat of their fort. Richie was sure he looked the same; fair skin problems, he knew.

“Challenge accepted,” Richie said in a low growly Voice.

“I don’t care to play anyway,” Stan said.

“Too bad, Stanley,” Richie poked him in the arm. “You don’t have a choice.”

Stan didn’t argue again, just yelled, “Obliterate him, Bev!”

It wasn’t the Christmas that Richie had envisioned. Eddie wasn't there, and they weren't sipping hot cocoa. Not one snowflake had fallen from the sky. But it was a Christmas Richie knew he wouldn't easily forget.

Stan's voice was loud, curses falling off of his lips as he jammed his thumb against the buttons on the SNES controller. Beverly had her bottom lip between her teeth as she attempted to beat Stan's character.

And Richie was poking both of their sides, testing to see who could still win with all of the pressure.

Hours later, Richie was the last to fall asleep, which isn’t surprising. Stan’s soft snores filled the living room, his body curled tight into a ball, knees pressed to his chest. He’d fallen asleep first, lured to sleep by Beverly and Richie’s trash talk.

Beverly had deliberately gone to sleep, handing Richie her controller and tucking herself in. She looked peaceful, a soft smile across her face. Richie kind of wanted to take a picture, one to show her when she woke up.

Richie played a couple of rounds on his own, before his eyelids finally felt heavy enough to whisk him to sleep.

X

“Richard,” Richie was jolted awake by the sound of rustling blankets and his fathers sleep-heavy voice. “The phone is for you.”

“Huh?” Richie squeezed his eyes shut, confused and dazed. He stretched his hand out, fingers searching for his glasses. His fingertips met blankets, Stan’s curls, and a stray pillow instead.

“The phone, Rich,” his father spoke again. “It’s Bill.”

Richie finally found his glasses, shoving them onto his face. He’d smudged the lenses in his haste, distorting the image of his father. “Bill?”

His father sighed. “Richie, answer the phone.”

Richie nodded and watched as his father disappeared. He sat up slowly, stretching his arms clear above his head. He scrambled to his feet, jogging into the kitchen and towards the closest phone.

“Hullo?” His sleep heavy voice fumbled(ow) around the British Guy voice, which earned him a chuckle from Bill on the other side.

“Guh-g-good morning, Richie,” Bill greeted. “I h-huh-have g-good news.”

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Richie continued on with the British Guy, listening to Bill laugh again. “And what is it?”

“Edd-ddie’s b-back!” Bill cheered into the receiver, instantly waking Richie from his sleep.

“What?!” Eddie wasn’t due home for another week. Had something happened? Was Eddie okay? “Is everything fucking okay?”

Bill laughed again. “Ap-parently there’s a wint-t-ter st-storm coming.” Bill explained. “Mrs. K wuh-wanted to b-beat it.”

“Of fucking course.” Richie rolled his eyes; he should’ve known. “Wait? Does that mean it’s snowing?!” Richie spun around, nearly pulling the phone chord out of the wall as he scrambled to push apart the shade and blinds. From his spot in the kitchen, he could see a small dusting of snow already gathering on the ground, little flurries dancing in the air. “Holy shit!”

“What is it?” Richie turned yet again, this time to find Stanley standing in the kitchen doorway. “What are you doing?” Stan asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“It’s snowing, Stanathon! It’s a Christmas Miracle! It’s truly a white Christmas,”

“It’s n-not Christmas anym-m-more,” Bill laughed into Richie’s ear.

“Oh but Bill, it’s always a white Christmas when I’m with you.” Richie purred.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Stan groaned, as Bill laughed and said,

“Ewe, gruh-gross, R-richie.”

“This was the second thing on my list!” Richie said. “It may be the day after Christmas, but I got things two and four on my list! That’s gotta mean something.”

Richie was profoundly grateful, suddenly. His mind was whirling faster than he could grasp onto an idea. Because suddenly they had to dress quickly, call the rest of their friends and gather to play in the snow.

X

 _Eddie is back_ , Richie’s mind chanted over and over again as he dressed that morning. Everyone had agreed to meet up at Richie’s house, which left him scrambling to get ready.

“I’m going to see my man again,” Richie put on a show as he dressed. He, Stan and Beverly stood in his bedroom, all in various state of dress. Bill agreed to bring an extra set of snow clothes to share, as Richie only had one back up set. For now, Stan would have to wait for the backup set as Beverly called dibs on Richie’s.

“Poor him,” Stan deadpanned.

“It’s been awfully lonely without him,” Richie continued on. “With him away at war.”

“That’s insensitive,” Stan said, though Richie ignored him once again.

“He’s been overseas, you see. I sure do hope he hasn’t forgotten me.” He smacked both of his hands against his cheeks. “What if he’s forgotten what I looked like? What if I don’t remember the color of his eyes?”

Beverly laughed while Stan shook his head, messing with his curls in the mirror.

Ben showed up first. Richie watched him clamber up the mostly snow-covered sidewalk, pulling a sled behind him. Peculiarly, there was a bundled person on the sled. No skin was visible, as the person had on snow pants, a snow coat, a hat, gloves and what must have been a ski mask. There was only one person it could be Richie knew instantly. An adorable little gremlin who hadn’t wanted to hike to Richie’s house alone; nor by foot at all.

“Eddie!” Richie shrieked, jumping from his place in what was left of their fort, rushing to the front door. He flung it open before Ben and Eddie were even on the porch.

“Eddie!” Richie cheered again, this time into the soft, morning. The bundled human on the sled’s head popped up, exposing bright brown eyes. Even from several feet away, Richie knew those eyes. He loved those eyes. “Spaghetti!” Eddie gave a little wave, though it looked silly with how bundled he was.

“Hey, Richie, nice to see you, too.” Ben said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Ben Handsome! Lovely as ever,” Richie teased. “But I saw you this week already, so,” Richie gave a shrug, pointing to Eddie. Finally, they were within touching distance. Richie shoved his feet into the boots that he’d thrown at the door earlier, jumping onto his porch in one movement.

He reached down as Eddie reached up, and just like that they were entangled in an embrace. Richie breathed in the smell of Eddie; hand sanitizer, peach shampoo and snow. He could feel Eddie nuzzling his face into the crook of Richie’s neck, and he memorized the feel of it. Of what it felt like to be reunited with his favorite person in the world.

“Yowza, Eds,” Richie mumbled. “Are you happy to see me or is it just-”

“Shut up, dipshit,” Eddie grumbled, though he was smiling. “I missed you,”

“I’m very missable,” Richie said, though he wanted to say _I missed you more, I hope we’re never apart again_.

Eddie gave a little, wry smile, as if knew what Richie was thinking. “Help me?” He asked, and with Ben’s help they got Eddie up onto his feet.

“Hey, Eds,” Beverly finally appeared in the doorway, huddled in a blanket from their fort. “How were your aunts?”

“Hey, Bev,” Eddie smiled. “They were shitty, but leaving early kind of feels like a Christmas miracle.” He shook his body, allowing snow to fall from his water repellant snow clothing. From there, he pushed around his friends and into the warmth of the Tozier’s entryway.

“Is nobody else here?” Ben asked, looking around curiously.

“We’re only missing Billy and Mikey,” Richie answered. “And after Eddie, they’re the most important guests.”

Eddie beamed at Richie, nearly blinding him. Nearly making him miss Stan’s disgruntled, “Why them?”

“Because, _Stanley_ ,” Richie tore his eyes away from Eddie. “This is Mikey’s first snowball fight, and Bill is the reigning champion who’s about to get _destroyed!_ ”

“How very macho, manly of you,” Beverly laughed at his Voice.

“Thanks, it’s new. You like it, Eds-spagheds?”

Eddie had a large grin on his face, though he answered with a, “Nah, not really.”

“Liar!”

“Are we doing teams?” Ben asked next, looking around. “Should we decide teams without the others?”

Richie nodded, “You snooze, you lose.”

“I’ll be a team captain,” Ben offered in what was a very bad imitation of indifference.

“Oh don’t put yourself out too much, Benley,” Richie teased.

“Leave him alone,” Beverly chided gently at the blush that blossomed against Ben’s cheeks.

“Only if I can be the other team captain. Bill’s always won every snowball fight in the past, but maybe Team Trashmouth is in for a win this year.”

“Do we get to pick teams, or am I stuck on Team Trashmouth?” Stan asked.

“You’d be lucky to be on my team!” Richie said. “Also, all in favor of Ben’s team being Team Handsome raise your hand.” Richie didn’t wait even a beat for a response, instead exclaiming, “It’s unanimous!”

“Should we number off?” Ben suggested.

“This isn’t fucking PE class, Ben,”

Just then, there was a loud knock on the still open front door. Mike poked his head inside, a bright smile on his face.

“If it isn’t the man of the hour!” Richie cheered, ushering him inside.

“This is my first proper snowball fight,” Mike said happily, as if that wasn’t the main topic of conversation already.

“So we’ve heard,” Eddie said, though he was smiling. “Whose team do you wanna be on; Ben’s or Richie’s?”

Mike looked thoughtful. “I don’t like choosing,”

“Oh for fucks sake, Michael,” Richie grumbled. “I’ll decide for you. You’re on Team Trashmouth now.”

Mike did a little fist pump.

“Eddie is too, obviously,” Richie shrugged.

“I didn’t agree to that!”

“Sweet cheeks! Light of my life! You wound me!” Richie put his hands up to chest, pretending to cup his shattered heart. He took a step towards Eddie, who only took a step back.

“Now I’m really not joining your team!”

“You love my pet names!”

“You have no proof!” Eddie argued back, still side-stepping away from Richie’s advancing steps.

“Bev, you should join our team.” Although Richie’s attention was mostly on Eddie—who was still trying to escape his grasp and possible tickles—Mike was recruiting Beverly.

“Fuck yeah,” she agreed. “You three are going down!”

“We-we are?” Richie turned, distracted by Bill’s entrance.

“Finally!” Richie said as way of greeting. “Everyone’s in slow motion this morning; a bunch of fucking grandmas. Let’s get this fight started already!”

Mike made a couple of rules. Nobody was surprised when Stan and then Bill jumped in to add their own opinions. They were basic rules, things like each team had ten minutes to prepare. They debated for nearly five minutes on other rules, such as should each team have a base and should face aiming be allowed?

In the end, they decided that everything should be allowed. It’ll be a blood bath, but it’ll be entertaining.

“Alright, Team Trashmouth, what’s our plan?” Mike asked once they were all outside and the timer had begun rolling. “Do we build a fort? Is there enough snow?”

“We’re going to freeze before the fight even starts,” Eddie grumbled. He was wearing the ski mask again, though it was so large that patches of his chapped, pink skin still showed through. Richie wanted to rub lotion and kisses against the exposed skin, making it hard to focus on the game.

“We’ll be fine, Eds,” Beverly assured him. “And yeah, let’s just try and make a fort.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Richie asked. “Mr. Build-it Dude is on the other team.”

“What kind of fucking name is that?” Eddie turned to Richie. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Don’t get snippy now, sweetheart,” Richie crooned. “Where’s my sweet Eddie?”

Eddie didn’t say a word, just crossed his arms and grumbled something Richie couldn’t hear.

“Why don’t you make snowballs, Richie?” Mike suggested. “We can hide them in our fort.”

Stan’s watch timer went off much too quickly. Richie had managed to roll a bunch of snowballs, but it didn’t seem like enough. Eddie had followed him around, whining about the cold the entire time, informing Richie of all the possible illnesses they could all contract.

“That’s not a fort!” Eddie critiqued. “That’s a snow wall!”

“Well it’s better than nothing, Eds,” Beverly said. “We can hide our snowballs behind it, and we can duck behind it.”

“Either way, we’re out of time, so it’s all we’ve got.” Mike added. “Come on Team Trashmouth, we’ve got this.”

“We need a team chant or cheer or something,” Richie said, glancing over to see the home base of the other team. It wasn’t much more impressive than their own, which was comforting. Big Bill couldn’t win at Mike’s first proper snowball fight.

The snow was still coming down, thick flakes fell from the sky and coated the world in a winter wonderland. The snowflakes danced as they descended, glittering under the mid-morning light.

The fight began and it’s pure chaos, Richie thought. There was yelling and laughter and Richie’s hair was soaked from the snowballs Stan had chucked at him.

More important than any of that, though, was the energy of the other Losers.

Mostly, Richie’s focus remained on Eddie. Eddie was a _sight_ , one that Richie couldn’t tear his eyes away from. Snowballs flew around them, and Richie did his best to dodge them as he continued to soak in the image of his boyfriend. Eddie was red faced and feral with pent up energy. Richie never liked him more than when he’d forgotten what hypothermia and frostbite was. Now, Eddie was just pelting snow at their friends. And he was doing it with glee, with a sort of triumph that was so contagious.

As his sailing snowball hit Bill smack in the face, Eddie broke into the loudest laugh Richie has ever heard from him.

Richie watched as Mike ducked behind the snow wall, before he yelled, “Team Trashmouth to home base!”

Richie scrambled towards the snow wall, sliding behind it. He had to crouch low, so that Stan couldn’t get his hair again.

“We’ve only got a few more snowballs,” Mike explained. “And I’m not sure how to determine who wins, but I think it’s going to be us.”

“Let’s just pelt them,” Eddie said, glee in his eyes. “Just all at once, so they can’t throw any back. That’s how we win.”

“Let’s do it,” Mike smiled wickedly.

Everything happened quickly. Richie threw snowball after snowball, unsure if he made any of them. Eddie giggled madly in his ear, Mike had a brilliant smile, and Beverly shouted curses.

The pile was gone within seconds, leaving them heaving and gasping, laughing at the other team. Ben was soaked, Bill had fallen to the floor, and Stan was hiding behind a tree. Team Trashmouth had won.

“How was it, Mikey?”

The smile on Mike’s face was answer enough.

X

That night, it was a bit too snowy to trudge across town. And although Ben’s mom offered Eddie a ride home, Eddie used the snow to his advantage. He tutted into the phone that it was just too dangerous to get across town in the current weather condition, and that it would be much safer to spend the night warm and safe in the Tozier’s home. And while Mrs. K particularly disliked the Tozier’s, she couldn’t argue with Eddie’s logic.

So, Richie and Eddie lay cuddled up in Richie’s large bed. Eddie was cuddled up in one of Richie’s sweatshirts, and a pair of his pajama bottoms that he’d rolled the hem of multiple times. Richie had settled into a shirt and a pair of bright green boxers. They lay facing one another, breath mingling, legs tangled, and hands clasped.

Eddie’s fingers danced across Richie’s skin. His touch was feather-light, almost ticklish in places. Richie’s eyelids were heavy, fluttering closed. Although they popped open when Eddie’s fingers dipped below Richie’s boxers. It was innocent, little circles drawn into his hipbones.

“In your letter,” Eddie spoke up. “You promised me something.”

“Um,” Richie wracked his mind, trying to remember what he’d said. Other than a list of whines. Which is what he wanted to do, as Eddie’s hands slipped out of his boxers. Luckily, it was only to push at Richie’s t-shit and expose his pale stomach. “I did?”

“Mhm,” Eddie leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Richie’s jaw then, sucking at the skin gently enough so as not to leave a mark. “I’ve been wanting to, Rich.”

 _Christmas blowjobs_ , Richie suddenly remembered. He’d promised and Eddie had remembered. He felt his body react to the idea, and Eddie’s attention.

“Let me,” Eddie murmured against the skin of Richie’s neck. His fingers slid down Richie’s body again, straining to reach his boxers.

“Yeah?” Richie asked, excitement in his voice. Suddenly, there were too many clothes between them, the temperature of the room rising. Eddie placed a hasty kiss against his jawline, before he slowly crawled down the rest of Richie’s body.

“It’s like you said,” Eddie smiled. “Christmas blowjobs.”

Eddie hovered over Richie’s abdomen, shoving his t-shirt up and his boxers down. He didn’t bother to further undress Richie, or himself, instead focusing on Richie’s leaking erection. Bless teenage hormones and the ability to be so gone for Eddie so quickly.

Eddie spit into his palm, then, wrapping it gently around the base of Richie’s cock. Richie groaned lowly, his eyes falling shut. Eddie twisted his wrist several times, slow and methodical. Richie heard Eddie spit again, his other hand quickly joining.

Richie kept his eyes closed, focused on the feel of Eddie. There was the press of his hands, the warmth of his breath, the sounds of skin on skin.

And suddenly there was the warmth of Eddie’s mouth wrapped around the head of his erection.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Richie groaned lowly.

“Hush!” Eddie popped off his dick to say, causing Richie to whine. His hips bucked at their own accord, and he’d feel bad if it didn’t cause Eddie to turn his attention back to his dick.

“It’s so hard to be quiet, baby,” Richie groaned again. He reached his hand up to press his pointer finger between his lips. When Eddie licked at his slit again, Richie bit down on his finger. “Fucking shit, baby, you’re so good. You know just how to get me undone, holy shit.”

Eddie moaned around Richie’s dick in reply, but the vibration was so much, Richie nearly chocked.

“Baby, goddamn, you’re like a fucking wet dream. Look at you, mouth wrapped around my cock, _fuck_ ” Richie babbled, feeling a familiar tightness in his lower stomach.

Richie came quickly and unexpected. There wasn’t time to warn Eddie, who chocked as Richie came down his throat. Eddie pulled off, nose wrinkled.

“Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry, Eds,”

“It’s okay,” Eddie mumbled, his voice rough. It made Richie’s knees weak and his skin feel hot.

“Baby, you’re so good,” Richie flopped back against the bed. “Goddamn,”

“Was it good?” Eddie asked.

“Amazing,” Richie breathed. “Five stars.”

“Shut up,”

“I’m serious,”

Richie laid still for a moment, counting to ten three times in his head, before he rolled onto his side. He met eyes with Eddie, a shared look of want.

“Come on, baby, let’s get you out of these, let me see your pretty cock,” Richie fumbled, his body still feeling jelly-like and warm. Somehow, the pair managed to undress Eddie in the least sexy way. Neither seemed to mind.

“My Trashmouth,” Eddie laughed, something both aroused and tender in his gaze. “The filth you say, Richie, always so hot. And now look at you,”

Richie was kneeling before his boyfriend’s erection. He stuck his tongue out flat, batted his eyelashes, too.

Eddie groaned. “See what I mean?”

Richie just chuckled, finally leaning in close enough to press kiss at Eddie’s tip.

Richie was more than happy to reciprocate, sucking happily at the head of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie was home, that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays! I would love to receive a little holiday cheer in the form of a review. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Also, if you love this story, try the others in the series and consider subscribing to the series as a whole. I would love to have you along for the adventure.
> 
> And if you’d like to suggest a headcanon or just discuss anything Losers Club or Reddie related, find me on tumblr @eddiekaspbrak-lesbian.


End file.
